Dear Friend Whom I Know Not,
by Kuja's Moon
Summary: Will in a fit of despairation writes a letter to someone whom he feels can understand his pain and learn from his mistakes. (Yaoi)


Dear Friend Whom I Know Not,

I've never the pleasure of meeting you in person, but with all good respect, I'm writing you this letter knowing that you'll know exactly what to do with it. The Sea's a worthy messenger, and she knows who will listen and take things as seriously as they are meant. I hope you can learn from mistakes that I have made, and make a life more prosperous than most. 

Here is my story as it was then -- because nothing much has happened in the way of now.

I wasn't there when it happened; I found it out the hard way -- with no chances for words. No chances because I had waited too long to make my own choices.

*

The ship had docked into Port Royal on the third day of summer; I recalled it clearly, because it was my birthday and the day prior Elizabeth and her father had left for a trip to London.

In my gut I held a sickening feeling, a foreboding one. I had awoken with it, and it lingered inside me even after I had downed a pot of coffee. I assumed foolishly that it was because I would have a rotten birthday -- alone. (If only it could have been that!)

I remember tedious things from that day, and why I should recall such insignificant things on that particular day is beyond me.

I had awoken with such start that even now I find it hard to think I could have been asleep with the alertness I found in my senses.

The white walls were still dark with night -- but there was no sleep left in me. The sheets of my bed were damp with sweat and twisted at my ankles. I could see candlelight creeping under the door's edging.

With numb, fumbling fingers, I pulled up my breeches, tying them snuggly in place before grabbing blindly for my shirt.

Even thought the air was still warm in the smithy from the day before as I stumbled down the stairs -- with the awkward feeling thick in my chest, I felt as if my bones had turned to the purest ice. Not even the friction of rubbing my arms with my hands could stop me from shivering.

I can still see the stairs winding beneath my feet -- the mahogany brown of the much trod-upon wood -- my bare feet.

As I reached the bottom of the stairway, I had to place a hand to the wall as the other went to my forehead. I don't think it's possible to explain the feeling but shall try: It was a sudden weight heavy on my shoulders that made all the air in the world too big to fit my lungs. It was a feeling of something black floating on the edge of my mind, an unexplained dark _thing_… of something to come -- something fearful. 

I thought to myself perhaps I would get so taken in rum tonight that I would drink until my tongue was loosened so far that, I would no longer understandable, and that when I stood to walk home would fall face down. There would be no one there to take me back to the shop because there's no one there who would care about me. Perhaps that was the reason for this feeling.

Furrowing my brow, I slipped into my shoes as I walked through the door. My hand slide over the roughened wood, I felt the ridges in it. My eyes were greeted with a gray sky that wrapped me in a blanket of mist. Here the air was cool -- only this air seemed to stab my lungs as it entered.

I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, as if to hide from the noonday sun. My walk was swayed and dimly in my mind, I felt like I had become Jack Sparrow. A smirk crept upon my lips. Jack Sparrow --- now that was a card if ever there was one. A strange bird.

And here came a spot in my memory; the next thing I remember was the sea before me. The sun was rising so that a blinding golden line come directly to me. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. But what took my breath away was the ship on the horizon. Even with the silhouette I could tell the sails were genuinely black.

_"The Pearl."_ I felt the words burst through my lips, falling out as a hushed whisper. What was it doing here? I could tell it was coming in -- but why?

I remember sitting down on the end of the dock, my legs hanging of the edge swinging. The water beneath me was a clear turquoise blue. I wanted to touch it; I wanted to hold it. I waited.

I remember precisely when Jack sauntered off the ship; I remember staring up at him; I remember when his eyes locked with mine and he did that thing where he just stares like something didn't make sense. His wide, kohled eyes were intense, and he tilted his head. "Will? Me lil' Will Turner? What cha be doing her'?" He was somehow in front of me, somehow he had helped me up -- no, we were in the shop, at the tavern.

" 'Tis yer birthday, eh, mate?" Jack winked at me from across the table. "Drink up."

I recollect pressing the drink to my lips, my mind somewhere else. The liquid burned down my throat; it made my head spin.

"Eh, Willie me lad, I've an idea. Seein' ye've been left high and dry by yer bonnie lass and I be looking' for a first mate, ye and me," Jack's hands waved hypnotizing-ly in front of my face; I watched with fascination. "We could go off… the sea and the _Pearl_." He grinned, arching an eyebrow suggestively.

He moved closer, his head tilted at that funny angle that only he can manage to pull off. 

"Laddie, if ye not be worrying about your lass," he stopped, then muttered to himself "I've got to try." With a deep breath that was uncharacteristic of Jack on the whole, he let his tongue loosen, "I ------------ whaddye say, mate?" 

I recall thinking my face wouldn't work as I tried to force my eyes to look at him. Geez, the world was so fuzzy and warm -- how could Jack stand it?

"Oi, ye can't hold yer drink, mate, can ye?" I felt arms around me before I greeted the table a little too eagerly.

I woke up --- the birds singing from behind my window shutters. My head was swimming.

"'Ey, up with ye, mate!" The voice was overly loud. "I've only a lil while. Tide be leavin' me."

I groaned, rolling over to face the wall. 

"Willie!" To this day I can still feel the heat from Jack's voice against my ear, blowing in my hair. "I've got yer birthday present. Ye be wantin' it, ye gots to get up."

I brought my hands up to rub away the sleep from my eyes, stretching at the same time. But as soon as I pieced together the words and what meaning they held, I bolted up right.

"Jack Sparrow!"

"Aye," the face was before me, Cheshire grin as always, "the one and only."

"You're here!"

"Stater of the obvious, me laddie." He grinned broader, his golden teeth shining at me, causing me to cringe. 

"For how long!?"

"Don't be openin' it 'til I'm gone."

I nodded vaguely aware that my stomach was rumbling as I stood on the dock waiting for his departure. It hit me suddenly that I hadn't eaten at all the day prior. 

I felt the warmth of Jack's hand on my shoulder, and he pulled himself into my space. I pulled back -- but just my face -- to stare at him. 

"Aye, yer sur' ye don' wann to come?" Jack grinned.

I guess I nodded because the next thing I remember I was on the docks by myself. I looked down at the box in my hands. It was "neatly" wrapped seeing who it came from. He had decorated it after his own fashion, with beads stuck to it haphazardly. The was a single red string tied in a bow -- which caused me to stare in surprise… Jack could _tie_ bows? Well, I'll be damned. 

I pulled the string with my callused hands, watching intently as the one loop disappeared in existence. It was just like how Jack and _the Pearl _faded from view. I recollect narrowing my eyes at it trying to figure it out, not that helped. I must have been walking at the same time because when I turned up at the sound of the voice I was in the market.

"That be from yer bonnie lass, eh? She be sendin' ye a treenkit? I bet it won' bit ye. Have no fear, lad!"

It was an old man who spoke, and I declined from explaining to him that it was just from Jack -- just a friend. 

He _was_ just a friend, but strangely, it hurt more with him leaving than it did with Elizabeth's departure. Did that mean anything? With my fingers still laced around the package I turned to look over my shoulder at the blue that stretched out for miles upon miles. Maybe it was just that feeling from yesterday coming back to haunt me, whatever that feeling was. Yes, that had to be it.

My gaze returned to that of the object in my hands. I carefully pulled the wrapping apart, not really aware that I was still in the middle of the market (people just walked around me). I shook off the cover with an exaggerated slowness, and stared down at the box's contence. A strand of beads and fixed at the bottom was a medallion. I remember it as the one Jack worn the closest to his face. As I examined it closely I realized beneath it was a slip of paper. Pulling it out, I read the writing I found on the opposite side.

_Willie,_

Twas yer father's, he gave it to me the night b'fore the mutiny. I want ye to have it as I'm to guess he'd agree. Remember the Pearl_'s here for ye when ye be needing her. I love ye, lad; I'd die fer ye._

Captain Jack Sparrow

I stared at the words as one would stare at something so obviously bled over. I looked around, thinking foolishly someone might look over my shoulder to read it --- or that Jack would come out from the crowd. Neither happened. Again I read it --- and reread it --- so many times that it was burned into the back of my mind. I could hear his voice molding the words with his lips, with his mouth.

It was strange. Elizabeth had given me letters before. But never had it been like this when I read them. Dimly I wondered why. It never occurred to me then what I really felt. It never occurred to me that I hadn't the time.

I took the chain out, staring at it in a daze before placing it back into the box and returning to the store.

That day I remember I worked for ten hours on swords --- made a grand total of ten (when I usually only made three a day), I practiced for four hours, and I had to soak my hands --- they were bleeding. 

I worked myself so hard I didn't have time for dreams that night.

The week went by in a haze, and I honestly don't recall much of it. The only way I knew it was an entire week was because Elizabeth's ship came back in the day before the dream.

Don't ask me about Elizabeth --- how she looked or what she said in her return, because I wouldn't be able to answer at all. I do remember their trip had been cut short by pirates who had attacked a merchant ship a day's journey ahead of them --- it seemed that Governor Swann didn't wanted to meet anymore pirates any time soon. But anything else Elizabeth might had said or done that day was eclipsed by the dream.

It was that feeling again, all encompassing. I couldn't breathe; it pressed down on my lungs squeezed at my heart, pounded at my head. I couldn't see either. It was like those nights when there's no moon and the clouds have barred the stars from view. I couldn't tell me from my shadow. But I was swimming, in that black water. I find the ocean always terrifying at night, and it was no different in my dreams. My flailing arms slapped against the wooden side of some boat, that's what saved me, I know. 

It's always interesting how you know certain things in dreams that you can't know in real life.

I rknow in the dream I fumbled for a way up in the darkness. And finally I found one, only then feeling the terrible fatigue in my limbs. How did I not notice it before, I wondered. With every heave my arms gave to pulling me up, my body threatened with unconsciousness. I gasped for breath, but eventually flopped onto the deck where there was but a single candle light.

As in dreams the fact that I couldn't see the light on the deck from the water made perfect sense in the dream world, but now that I think back on it I can't begin to understand.

The small light was a blessing I thought, and I could feel it's little warmth upon my skin.

I opened my eyes to it's orange glow and noticed someone lying by it. I smiled, because I knew who it was. Jack!

With feeble hands I reached out to shove him awake but even as my hand neared I felt that feeling choking me. I pulled him over and ----

--- I remember terror in waking up. The screams shook my body for hours afterwards and the image of a quite dead Jack haunted me like nothing I'd ever felt before. I felt tears tumble down my cheeks. I can't recall the last time I cried, and the sensation felt odd. 

I didn't even wait for the morning, like proper etiquette defines. Instead I snuck up to the governor's manor like I had when I was no more than a lad to find Elizabeth. She was alone in her room reading; she stated plainly in that voice of hers that I looked dreadful and asking had I been eating okay. All those sort of things girls go on about. When I explained my dream and showed her my birthday present, her face washed away the motherly concern and her eyes were intently gazing at me.

"What are you doing here, Will? Please, tell me you're not as blind as I think you are, because if what you've just told me is true -- you're a bigger fool than I thought possible."

There were other words…. Most of which was not really important, more of guidance. But I do remember the words stirred me from the weeping spot on the floor. "Oh, Will, go to him for Christ's sake. You haven't been the same since he left last time, and you know it." 

I'd like to add that she didn't seem mad -- only a little annoyed that I _was_ the biggest fool that she thought possible. 

I stumbled to my feet as quickly as I could and ran to the door.

"Will." Elizabeth's voice was patient. 

I turned around.

In her hand she held the small box that contained what Jack had given me. I felt my face tingle with a blush and I retrieved it with a "Thanks." 

The ground beneath my feet flew before my eyes. Dimly the changing of sound of my boots hitting the flooring when I reached the docks reached my ears, etching into an unimportant memory. I ran up to the first person I saw.

"Passage please!" I was begging, and I knew it.

"I won't be doing it for free."

"I've money if that's what you need!" I pulled out a pouch from my side.

"Where to then?"

"Tortuga."

The man's eyes bulged and he stared at me for a second before shaking his head with vehemence. "We don't go there; you'll have to be finding other ships."

My eyes were frantic in my head as I searched the docks for more ships --- any people that might be pulling out. 

I spent an hour asking every person I saw -- even ones I knew I had no hope with -- an ill spent hour. It suddenly became quite real to me that I only had so long to get to him. Only so long ---- and once I did get to him…. What exactly was I going to say? ----- I hadn't figured that out yet; I just knew I _had_ to get to Jack now.

"I'll take you."

The words were like music to my ears. I turned around frantically to see who it was. A sea hardened man stood before me. His clothing was a rough linen, but it was obvious that he was the captain. I could tell from his boots.

"Really?" My voice reached a higher pitch then I knew was still capable of me.

He looked at me sternly. "You looking' fer a per't'c kular guy?"

I nodded vaguely. "Jack… Captain Jack Sparrow." The words spilled from my lips so fast I fancied I must have sounded like a schoolgirl to him. A blush tinged my cheeks. Perhaps it was unwise to tell him that I was looking for Jack… I mean, he might know that Jack was the captain of the _Black Pearl_. 

But my answer seemed to have no effect on him. 

He motioned for me to follow him. 

I did.

The days past one by one --- the next seeming thousands of hours longer than the last. The sea before me was still like glass, and only as faint wind carried us in a faintly moving course. I could have died with the all the waiting. I remember the wood beneath my hands of the ship's railing as I looked out over the ocean, pleading with it --- straining my eyes to see as far as they could --- to see the _Pearl_. But day after day only the bleak blues greeted my sore muscles. I let myself tumble to the floorboard of the deck in an attempt at rest. The sun beat down on me. It wasn't a warming thing; it was reprimanding -- angry even. I knew why. 

I rubbed my eyes, in hopes that this little manipulation would aid them in their next few hours of searching.

"Ey, mate, you gonna be eatin' taday?" 

I didn't look toward the man who spoke --- I hadn't even learned his name, and we were a good week or two into the journey.

"No, sir," I kept my head bent, rubbing my eyes.

He laughed as he continued past, "Ye needn't be callin' me 'sir.'"

That's when the lookout hollered that he had caught sight of a ship --- a big one --- a _pirate_ ship.

My blood ran cold, and I scrambled back to my feet, leaning far over the edge already knowing what I'd find. 

The _Pearl._ Oh, she was right before me, calling for me -- why hadn't I heard it before? Why had it taken me so long?

Our ship lurched, and I was swung to one side of the deck, scrapping my cheek against the wooden planks.

"Hey!" I shouted; my voice sounded weird --- unused, which was not at all surprising since I had only been speaking above a whisper for sometime now. "What are we doing? We've got to make for that ship." The feeling that I was running out of something had settled again on my shoulders so that I could barely breath.

"Are ye crazed, lad?" It was the captain; he stood in his fine boots at the helm. I hated him in that instant. "That be the _Pearl_. Only if yer bloody mad do ye make fer that cursed ship." 

I looked to the ship that called to me then in the direction our ship had taken, and without much thought I threw myself into the waves. 

It was as if as soon as I touch the water it took on a much fiercer quality, throwing me this way and that, several times I found myself with mouthfuls of water gulping with a wince as I flailed helplessly in the direction of the _Pearl_ -- of _Jack_.

Soon settled into the steady motions that was awkwardly different when _in_ the water as opposed to _on_ it, I forced every ounce of my muscles to work, willing them to push and pull the water so that it was behind me and the _Pearl_ was a bit closer.

"Man… over board?! --- starboard." This voice was familiar, only I couldn't place it.

"Ey, it looks to be Will… Turner? Well, don't just set there, mates, get 'im up." Gibbs?

I was gasping for breath as a rope came swinging down. It was looped at the end, and I hardly had the strength to slip into it before my muscles seemed to give out. I hadn't known it was quite so far. Perhaps I really was mad; but still… that captain hadn't understood! It was the feeling… it had swallowed me. When they pulled me over the edge I flopped against the deck, and they rolled me over.

"Where'd ye come from?" It was Gibbs -- he stuck his face close to mine, and I could hardly breath from his breath.

"It must be that ship."

"Ye swam from that ship, mate? Is that it?"

"Ye crazy?? That be a good six miles!"

"Look at his chest --- the way he's heaving it, mate. He looks be that of the Capt." That was whispered.

"Oh, Will, ye arms! Ye pulled the muscles off the bone, mate. That's be taking a while to repair. What be your hurry?" Ana Marie.

I couldn't get a word in through their comments; I couldn't get enough air with them all pushed up around me.

"Hey, I think he be about to speak!"

"Ye want to speak up, laddie?" Gibbs….

I breathed deep, almost choking on the feeling --- it was as if I was running out of time. That's what it felt like. "Jack."

"What?" All of the faces asked the same question, and for once I could answer them back because of the silence.

"Captain Jack Sparrow." I sighed out, closing my eyes for amount.

When there was no answer, and I began to feel the pain in my arms --- probably what Ana Marie had spoken of, I opened my eyes again.

All the faces before me were stricken and whitened to a transparent color.

Again my heart stopped, this time it was in fear. The feeling had made it's peak _finally _after two weeks of having it cling to me. But I didn't want it to _peak_! I shook my head, looking at them with anger. 

"Jack --- I want to see him, now!" I pulled myself so that I was sitting up on the deck, my whole body ached.

They all stared at me with such a horrible look on their faces. If I had been in a normal state I might have realized that it was sympathy and regret and even a fear of informing.

"Where is he?" I looked to Gibbs, who decided now that he wouldn't look me in the eye.

With effort I managed to make it to my feet, trying to hold one arm so that it wouldn't swing back and forth painfully. I hobbled to the cabin doors, looking back to Ana Marie. "Is he in _here_?" My voice rose, and she flinched as I spoke. She wouldn't meet my eyes either.

"Well, if no one will answer me." I tried in vain to open the door with my useless hands. "I'll find him myself." As I couldn't open the door by way of the doorknob I slammed myself into it, so it caved in.

It wasn't too hard to find him. He was on the captain's bed, as he should to have been I guess. But when I went to his side, his face was an oddly paled color… it looked to have taken on the colors of the sea he loved so. And his chest didn't rise and fall as the whisper had entailed… or didn't anymore. His eyes, still kohl rimmed, were closed, darkening unnaturally. And his lips were an awkward color. I touched him to wake him, as I knew would happen with a gentle touch, and he was cooling to my fingertips.

I could only stare at his face as I sank to my knees. My lips parted as if I might have spoken, but no words fell out.

"He -- he just pasted, Will. And I mean _just_." It was Gibbs, he was whispering -- God, I hated whispering; he must have been at the door way, but I could have cared less where he was. "No one knows what it be that he had. No one's ever been seeing it. His body's been burnin' with fever for the past days, he be mumblin' in his sleep -- weren't no sleep at all, methinks. When I been looking' after him I heard him callin' fer ye, lad. He was hangin' on fer ye… but he jest couldn't make it."

The feeling that had surrounded me for so long was ebbing now. I realized that I was too late. I _had_ run out of time.

A numbness surrounded me, and I just stared -- as if in a daze -- at the features before me. Ana Marie came up to my side and, placing her hands on my shoulders, squeezed, as she whispered, "He knew ye were comin' -- he kept sayin' ye would -- in his fits. 'Willie, I luv ye, laddie.'" She seemed uncomfortable as the words slipped through her mouth in a low rush into my ear. Perhaps it was because of their nature or perhaps it was because I didn't move or speak, but she and Gibbs and the whispers… they left the room. Left it to me and my Captain.

There was a thickness in my throat, and try as I might I couldn't swallow it away. An awkwardness in my chest arose as if an invisible force pressed against my lungs in attempt to decompress them. And I could only stare, stare at his features --- stare at him… or what was him.

No, no. I was sure that it was wrong. _Something_ was wrong here. He wasn't gone. (I couldn't bring myself to even think the other word, not even now.) He was just playing. Or more probable he drank a bit too much rum -- Elizabeth _did_ tell me how he couldn't get enough of it. He was quite alive and quite well.

When I awoke, it was due to the pain in my back. And I realize quickly this was due to the position in which I had spent the night, kneeling at the edge of a bed.

I was relieved to see upon taking in my surroundings that Jack was the owner of the aforementioned bed -- and he was still keeping it warm. So it was not but a dream. A smile played on my lips, but it soon turned to ice as cold as the stuff the man who occupied the bed was made of. 

"Jack," I remembered whispering, both fearing to wake him and to _not_ wake him. I swallowed. "Jack." My voice rose in volume with each time I spoke his name. Why wouldn't he wake? I felt heated liquid of tears streaming down my face as I pushed backwards to stand. I flinched; my arms were not but useless strings at my side that only called on pain. "JACK!" I cried then as hard and as loud as I could. There was nothing in the world that could stop me, unless I ran out of tears all together.

Damn it, so everything was quite real. There were no dreams --- or at least non worth dreaming.

The door to the cabin burst open and Gibbs along with Cotton ran in their faces unsure.

"He's gone," I mouthed, sobbing still louder.

"Ey, mate, don't be carin' on so; he wouldn't hav' wanted it." Gibbs gave a half smile and only succeeded in my tears coming out more violently.

We gave him a burial at sea. I watched as his face faded into the blue as he sunk further out of my reach. But I didn't cry then. I could tell it made the crew uneasy, and Gibbs was right -- Jack wouldn't have liked it that I made myself sick over him and all. Ana Marie bandaged me up, and she said she thinks in a week's time I'll be as good as new -- too bad she doesn't know how to bandage hearts. I didn't tell her that I didn't think I could ever be as good as new; she wouldn't have understood. She took over as Captain and offered me a place as first mate. I declined, because I can hardly be a good first mate if I keep staring off into space as she says I do from time to time. So Gibbs is first mate now. Things are working out nicely, I suppose.

The wind licked my hair back, and I remember looking out as far as I could possibly see -- there was nothing to mar my view not even a cloud. It was on days like this that it was the worst. I licked my lips, bowing my head for the brief moments rest from the sun's rays. 

When I looked back up again I spoke as if to someone but no one was. 

"I love you too…." I swallowed, my throat seemed thicker today -- must be the heat. "Captain … Jack… Sparrow."

Sometimes I dream of him, sometimes I see him, but always what happened is there floating in a black cloud on the outskirts of my mind. And I wonder that if time will dampen the pain and erase the fact that he was here, I hope not. I'd rather live with the pain always and remember him _always_ --- even if the only way I can remember him is when I first met him, and when I didn't get to say good-bye.

William Turner Son of "Bootstrap" Bill Turner


End file.
